Vodka and Tears
by Pop Horror
Summary: Frerard.  Frank always gets the exact same envelope full of money, alway without a name.  There's only one person it could be from- the man who had left him all those years ago.


**Right, let's get the boring shit over with- i don't own the characters, however lovely it may be- I only own the plot line.**

**So this is just a wee thing that I thought of and had the sudden urge to write. I'm not sure if it is Frerard or not- it is in a way, but in a way it's not...Confused? So am I, so just do me a favour and read it :L**

Frank stood there, the brown envelope lodged between his trembling fingers.

But of course, it was always like this. No matter how many times he woke up with the envelope in his post-box, it would always be a surprise. There was no escaping the shock- he had been getting an envelope every month for the last year and a half, but he still hadn't gotten used to it.

He examined the writing on the envelope. Just as he had expected- the same bold, block capital writing, spelling out the word "Frankie", nothing less, nothing more. No stamp, no address, no anything!

He sliced the seal open with his index finger, exactly like he had done so many times before. And what did he find? Exactly 1000$. No note, no letter, no name to signify who the cash came from- just like he found every other morning after pay day.

But even though there were no clues to guide him to the sender, one name always stuck in his mind-

Gerard.

_The sky is burning orange, the air crisp, a typical winter's evening. But I can't complain- it's dry, and right now I want nothing more than to sit on the roof of the flats with Gerard, to feel safe in his presence._

_I can't put into words how I feel about him- it's weird. More than friendship, but not exactly love, well, not in a romantic sense anyway. It's more brotherly, but weirder. I mean, we kiss and stuff, but none of it's ever _sexual, _not in my mind anyway. It's more to show I care about him, that he means more to me than the rest of the world. But even though I don't think of Gerard like _that_, I want him all to myself. I want to hide him away, never let another soul touch him again._

_Especially not his stupid girlfriend. What's her name again? Oh, yeah, Shannon. A stupid model paid a fortune for wearing skimpy clothes, her tits nearly hanging out. Her daddy's rich too- he'll do whatever she wants. But she'll never be anything more than a slut. I have no idea what anybody could see in her- when you dig beneath the fake tan and lip-gloss, is there perhaps a soul? Some form of a heart buried too deep to be visible from the surface? But it's clear that she is only dating my Gerard for his gorgeous looks, his beautiful body._

Frank took the money out of the envelope and placed it into his top drawer, just like he did every single other time. There it stayed, hidden between a bundle of porn magazines and his little stash of weed, until he was in need of its assistance. He pushed the drawer shut, pushed the key into the lock and turned it with a satisfying clunk. He didn't want anybody touching his stuff.

He needed to find out if it was Gerard sending him the money, but Frank knew too well that curiosity had killed the cat oh so many times. there had been many a time he had been tempted to stay up during the night, waiting to catch a glimpse of the mysterious donor, though had always chickened out. Maybe next month he would finally find the guts.

_Gerard and I sit in silence- it isn't awkward or uncomfortable, it fells nice, right infact._

_Gerard sips away at a bottle of beer at an alarmingly fast rate. It's getting worrying, the amount of alcohol he drinks. A few cans of beer and that used to be him, but these days he could easily make his way through a full bottle of whiskey in one evening. And I doubt very much that that is a healthy trait to contain._

_Out of my pocket, I pull some weed. I begin to roll myself a joint, stopping every few seconds to tuck behind my ear a dreadlock which refuses to stay in place, continuously falling in front of my face, blocking my view._

_"So, what's been happening with Andy?"_

_I look up from my work, slightly surprised by the sudden question_.

_"He said he's going to chuck me out if I can't pay this month's rent. I'm probably going to have to sell some more of my shit, unless I wanna be sleeping on the streets."_

_He shakes his head in disgust._

_"But haven't you already sold a load of amps and shit?"_

_"Yup, sold all my foot pedals, my acoustic, that old sax and everything. All I've got left is Pansy... Guess she's going too..."_

_"Wow there!" Gerard stops me, "You are NOT selling Pansy: she's like your child! Let me give you some money"._

_I shake my head. I'm not going to take any money of Gee. He offers every month, and every month I turn it down. From my sweater pocket, i pull out a Zippo lighter._

_"C'mon, I can't let that asshole chuck you out!"_

_I place the joint to my lips._

_"Please, just this once?"_

_I use my hand to shield my face from the wind, beginning to spark the lighter, as i shake my head from side to side rhythmically._

_"Fine..."_

_The joint bursts into life, filling my lungs with the bitter sweet aroma. I hand it over to Gerard, offering him some. He holds his hand up, politely refusing._

_Gerard, turning down weed? Something was wrong._

A month passed by. It was one in the morning, and Frank found himself sitting on the edge of his bed, staring into the pearl studded velvet sky. Tonight he would stay up. He had no choice- he had been convincing himself into it for the last four week. Letting himself down wasn't an option.

He could hear the muffled snoring creeping through the paper thin walls of the flat. His room mate Andy was presumably sound asleep, and not having a death wish, reached for his sunshine yellow walkman and headphones that sat on his bedside table. Music was always the best thing to pass the time.

Pulling open the player, he inserted the cassette that was concealed within. Black Flag? Nahh, as much as he loved them, he wasn't in the mood for them. Instead, he clambered under his bed, pulling out a garish neon green plastic box, stacked high with cassettes. Browsing through them, he finally decided upon a local band called My Chemical Romance. They weren't very big, and he knew nothing about the members; all he knew was that the three track which tattooed the tape made him feel more alive than anything else he ad heard before.

Pushing the cassette into the slot, my head began to buzz with adrenalin.

"And if they get me and the sun goes down into the ground,

And if they get me take this spike to my heart..."

His mind began to wander. As much as he had thought this through, he had never really thought of what he would say to Gerard- if it really did turn out to be him. Gerard probably wouldn't want to talk to him, after everything that had happened...

_"Frankie, I think we need to talk..."_

_I look up, facing Gerard, staring him right in the eye. He looks so beautiful today, floppy locks of raven hair__ falling over his hazel eyes. He looks down, beginning to scratch away at the ground with his thumbnail._

_"Me and Shannon are getting married"_

_My face drops, crumples into a distorted mess of pain and shock. Gerard lifts his hand to in front of his face, picking grains of dust from beneath his thum__bnail. No eye contact is made._

_"I proposed to her last night. We're planning on having the wedding in the spring"_

_Gerard tries his best to sound friendly, but he knows too well he's smashing up my heart. A tear is forming in my eye, slipping down my cheek, tumbling to the ground like the last of the summer leaves, dead and decayed._

_"And of course you're invited". He finishes his speech with a nervous giggle. I stay silent._

_"Why the fuck are you marrying _her_?"_

_It's his turn to stay silent now. H replies after a moment of thinking through his words_

_"Because I really like her. That's why."_

_I spit at the ground, disgusted at his lame excuses._

_"Yeah, well you know what, fuck you. You're just going to run off with that slut, forget about me..."_

_He's looking at the ground, guilt painted across his face._

_"...But I don't care. When she's out shagging random guys, and you're sitting at home, crying your pathetic little heart out, with no one left to give a fuck: you'll learn your lesson."_

_Gerard's eyes are longing, desperate for forgiveness. He mouths the words 'I love you', leans in to kiss me, but I back off._

_"Get the fuck off me."_

_"But Frankie, I love you."_

_I shake my head._

_"No you don't"_

_I stand up. I'm walking away from Gerard, stopping just as I reach the door back into the flats._

_"You love that Shannon bitch"_

_I'll never speak to him again._

A car pulled up outside the flats.

Could it be him?

The car door swung open, revealing a figure, a figure that could not be mistaken. He had the same midnight black hair, the same moonlit white skin, the same denim clenched hips, the same leather hung shoulders. It couldn't be anyone else.

The figure walked towards the block of flats, opening the door and entering the building. Frank left his flat, not bothering to lock the door behind him.

The grubby staircase spiraled downward, digging into the centre of the earth. The figure stood at the bottom, gazing upwards, catching Frank's eyes.

Neither man moved content with the distance between them. It had been so long; so much had changed. They didn't know each other anymore. They had been reduced to strangers.

Yet Frank couldn't help but love him. Even the obscured glimpse of his face made the feelings flood back- the betrayal, the hurt, the longing. He had been trying so hard for so long now to block out everything- every emotion, every care, every memory. But now, he could remember everything.

"Long time no see", the figure called, a voice so familiar yet vague in his memory, as he began to climb the staircase, grabbing onto the handrail, heaving himself up.

"I guess you could say that". Frank's voice was cracking. Was he about to cry? Cry over such an asshole? He was stronger than that, surely?

He wasn't. The figure was only feet from him now, and the acid hot tears building up in Franks eyes were leaking from his soul.

"I've missed you Frankie"

"I've missed you too; Gee"

Gerard reached into the pocket of his leather jacket, pulling out a brown envelope.

_That_ envelope.

"I always knew you were the one sending the money."

Gerard forced forward the envelope, but was knocked back by Frank's .

"But why? Why would you care about me?"

Gerard looked down, a tear forming in his eye.

"Because I love you."

"Then why did you leave me? Why did you run off with that Shannon girl?"

Gerard sighed, his mind beginning to flood with the past.

"I didn't want to hurt you. And I knew I was going to, if I stayed with you. My drinking was out of hand, and to be honest, it isn't any better these days, and I could see you were upset by it.

"So I needed to get out of the picture- to erase me from you're life, yet, I couldn't contain my need to help you. And that was when I met Shannon. She was rich, pretty, sufferable- the perfect solution. Using her, I could ease my way through my own, pointless life, at the same time as sending you enough money to save you're meaningful one."

Frank shook his head in disagreement. "You are anything but pointless- I need you. Without you, my life is pointless"

Gerard glanced back up, his eyes were almost fearful. "Really?"

"Yes Gerard. Now listen to me", he lifted his hands to Gerard's cheek, angling his head so he looked him right in the eye, "I don't want you to go marry someone just to make me happy. I want you to wait till you find the person you really love. And I don't care who they are- male, female, beautiful, ugly, dumb, smart- if you love them, then that makes me happier than any amount of money."

And with that, Frank pulled Gerard's lips to his, kissing him with that long forgotten lust that had been building up in him since the day Gerard had left. Nibbling, Frank could taste the vodka and tears which soaked Gerard's lips.

Gerard parted his lips, slipping his tongue into Frank's mouth, exploring the forgotten territory, beginning to fight for dominance in the kiss, regaining his former confidence. He was himself again. And he'd missed it.

The kiss slowed down to an almost deathly pace, both planting tiny, subtle kisses on the others dainty lips. Finishing, they gazed into each other's eyes, their noses slightly touching. Neither of them could explain how they felt about each other. Were they friends? Were they enemies? Were they in love? Only time could tell.

Pulling away, Gerard flashed a toothy grim, little creases forming under his tired, alcohol cursed eyes. "I should be going."

Gerard walked away, stopping half way down the stair case, turning his head round to face Frank. "Oh, and I was just wondering... My band is playing a gig tomorrow night. D'you want to come see us?"

"Yeah! Sure! What are you called?"

"My Chemical Romance."


End file.
